


A Gentle Truth

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Dark Age, Gen, Guardian and Ghost bonding, Newly Risen, Warlord (referenced)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-26 00:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: A Ghost finds his Guardian in the heart of old Tokyo. She asks her Ghost for a name. He agrees, but only if she grants him one in return.





	1. Chapter 1

It is not yet dawn. The sky is painted beautiful shades of velvet orange, violet-blue, and midnight over the once thriving metropolis. Once, it would be loud, as bright as daylight, and bustling with activity. Now, it is silent, the flicker of half-functioning lights from collapsed skyscrapers dull and short circuiting. There is no one in sight.

Except for one tiny, nimble Ghost, darting across rubble-coated streets and into buildings. He hovers over huge expanses, cracks that run kilometers deep into the ground, casting his gaze at them quickly before continuing on. There is a purpose in his intent, methodical searching. 

Then, all at once, his entire body freezes, hanging unnaturally in the air. Flick, shift. His small plating realigns itself around his body and he dips forward before hesitating, as if he cannot believe whatever his sensors have uncovered.

He proceeds slowly, over a destroyed roadblock with large chunks of the skyscraper above crushing it into the ground. Takes a left and finds a mostly in-tact alley. A warm breeze pushes at his back not unkindly; As if telling him that he's moving in the right direction.

On the other side of the alley, he takes a moment. The sun is not up yet, though the horizon is getting brighter. He looks around, takes stock. No movement on his radar for miles. Good. He reminds himself not to get so caught up in his search that he forgets to check his own six once in a while.

And then, he begins.

He always searches the deepest recesses first. Under large boulders and ruins, in small inlets and cozy nooks. As always, his search is fruitless. He makes another check of radar. Still good.

The next thing he does is comb the area. The unsuspecting alley opens into a small respite from the apocalypse shattered city. It becomes a wide, sprawling greenspace that is not terribly deep, but ends at the foot of a temple that looks centuries older than the decaying metropolitan architecture around it, though it is surprisingly intact. 

Behind the small temple lies the sea and the coming dawn. If he is no closer, he'll take a moment to watch the sunrise.

The Ghost scans the body of a humanoid nearby, a pile of bones propped against a decaying wall. Not his Guardian. Undeterred, the back fins of his shell spin, reorienting. His Guardian is close. The Light, the feeling of the tether between their souls is almost tangible now.

Across the archway outside the temple, delicate vines of yellow-white flowers grow, petals kicked up and swirling in the wind. The Ghost turns his optic to look through the Temple to the golden glow of the sunrise.

A pointed breeze blows through the open space from the sea, stronger than the gentle nudges from before. There is the serene clacking of wooden chimes. The Ghost doesn't hear them, though.

The wind dislodges the petals scattered across the cracked stone pathway just enough to reveal the ivory of bone. There is something terribly heartrending about this body, he thinks. All the others he's scanned in this area were hidden, likely terrified. 

This one, unlike the rest, stands in defiance. A Guardian, something deep in his mechanical body dares to hope.

He can see where something has cut through bone, their ribcage irreversibly damaged on the left side by a sharp object, likely a blade. A killing blow. He shivers. It must have been painful.

Tentatively, he spins his shell, front half clockwise, back half the counter-clockwise, preparing to scan the remains. A fragile blue beam touches the space over their sternum and widens to catch the rest. Quick as a blink, as though electrocuted, he draws back.

"It's you," He whispers, voice tiny and awed and reverent. The carmel-smooth quality of his voice is not drowned out by the synthetic overtone of it. "Finally," He murmurs, louder. Warmly. Overjoyed. "I've finally, finally found you."

With gusto, he hovers around the skeleton, taking inventory. He catalogues the rising sun, peeking just over the horizon. For as long as he exists, there will never be a more wonderful moment. Once satisfied, he opens his shell like the jasmine blooms hanging from the nearby vines that blossom to greet the day.

Light floods him, overrides his sensors, overrides everything-

-and then there is nothing but the golden glow of daybreak, and the damaged wood chimes clinking in the dawn breeze.

He blinks. They gasp.

Two glowing eyes, almond-shaped and diamond-white stare back at him.

"Hello, Guardian," He coos, trying to remember to orient them, but also trying to peel his optic away from their gaze so he can determine the rest about them as well. This is his greatest moment. His Guardian - they don't know it yet - they are his purpose. The very sun he orbits around. "You've been down for a while, but that's alright. I'm here to guide you."

Full lips and a flat, wide nose scrunch almost imperceptibly. Confused.

The Ghost's shell spins idly. He gives them a once over. Awoken. Female. Does not speak common, he reckons, based on her bewildered gaze. He lowers himself, moving slowly, as not to frighten her.

"W-watashi wa…"

She frowns, looking at her hands, watching the ripple of pastel blue illuminate her digits. Her skin is an alabaster color not unlike the moon, with an ethereal bluish tint. Darker blue markings paint the inside corners of her eyes, where the bridge of her nose and forehead come together.

She is nothing like he expected her to be. She is so much more. She is perfect.

"You might not speak the common language," He tells her slowly. "Can you understand me?"

Her pout is back, but there's something cute about it, watching her ponder. "Ano…" She trails off. "Gomen," She finishes, looking to his optic, and he does not need to know what language she's speaking to understand that she's apologizing because she does not.

It doesn't matter. None of it matters now, because he's found her. Together, they can do anything.

Without thinking, he butts his whole being into her chest. She flinches, but before he can draw back, whining mechanically, concern and regret - the fear of rejection - flaring through his every synapse, pale fingers cup his being and cradle him against her.

He can feel it. He can feel the jackrabbit beat of her heart, her fear, her wariness. But he can feel her trying to smooth that feeling over with comfort. Reassurance. She can feel their connection.

Minutes old and his beautiful, perfect Guardian is already trying to soothe him. He thinks words of gratitude to the Traveler. There could not be anyone more lovely in the absolute entirety of the universe.

And she's his!

Instead of speaking, he projects those feelings back to her, like a wave of gentle hope and safety. He focuses on telling her without words that it's alright, that he is here for her. Her fingers envelope him a little more closely, and his fins sag in relief.

They can work with this. They can still communicate.

When she cautiously releases him, he hovers close to her. "Ghost," He says.

A pale finger points at him.

"Ghost," He repeats.

She puts a hand on her chest. He sees the exact moment she realizes she doesn't know her name, can feel her panic. She should know it, he's sure that's what she thinks.

He pushes every soothing thought he can toward her, saying, "It's ok. It's normal."

"Oh-kay?"

"Yes," He agrees.

"Ghost," She murmurs. 

"Yes," He answers. "I'm your Ghost. Yours."

"Mine?"

He bobs in the affirmative, fins spinning excitedly. She might know some common, after all. Shock was common among new Guardians, he'd heard. "You don't have to talk, it might take a moment for it all to come back," He rambles. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She smiles nervously, and nods, projecting a mixture of trust - he feels like he's been broken apart and put back together - and unsurity. Panic. Swirling together under the surface.

A loud sound, a crash, the pop of gunfire flattens his newly reborn Guardian into a crouch. Her eyes are fearful and alert, darting around. Above her, the Ghost sighs, drifting down in front of her.

"I'm sorry," He drones sadly, then erupts into sparks of Light.

She looks down at her chest, reaching for the glimmer of sparkling, warm Light in the air. He feels her terror, her grief at his disappearance is like a bomb going off somewhere in his circuits. He urges calm feelings forward, marking a location he knows will be safe for her to hide. He can't hear her thinking, but he can feel her probing tentatively in her mind, reaching for him gently after the initial fear that he's left her subsides.

_I'm here,_ He tells her, testing the link all Ghosts and Guardians share. _I'm with you, always._

_Ghost,_ she answers. 

_Yes, Guardian. We have to move._ The sounds of the skirmish sound closer now.

She focuses, adjusting to the marker in her vision. Then, she dips carefully into the shadows, staying behind cover as much as possible. He continues to relay as much calm and serenity as he can.

But things become too close.

_Fallen,_ his sensors tell him. _Hide! _

She doesn't understand, the panic he's projecting overwhelms her until she's frozen under the weight of it. She cries out when a bullet grazes her arm. Out of pure instinct, she dives under a mangled barricade, breath coming in heavy pants, heartbeat escalated dangerously high. She scrambles into the skeletal husk of a building and holes up in a crack in the rubble.

The sound of rushed footsteps come through, hot on their heels. 

_Breathe slowly,_ He instructs, praying she understands. _Don't alert them._

_Ghost,_ she pleads back. Her fingers find the wound on her arm, blood thick and tacky. She squeezes her eyes shut and tears escape._ Kowaidesu._

He doesn't know what she's thinking to him, but he tries for context. She’s terrified. _It's okay. It's okay. Stay calm. I've got you._

Really, he doesn't, all he can do is heal her when the coast is clear and bring her back if they kill her. The thought saddens him. He doesn't want her to die. He can tell her wound hurts. He wants to protect her. His job is to protect her.

The imminent danger passes eventually, and he phases out of her chest. She shivers at the loss, but he hovers carefully in front of her face.

"They're gone," He tells her._ Safe_, he says through their link. The wordless communication seems to soothe her the most. "I'm going to heal you."

Her breaths turn sharp when he sets to mending her, the gouged wound sealing back together in Light. She looks down at the torn fabric on but healed skin on her arm in confusion.

"Better?" He asks kindly.

"Hmm," She says, and holds out her cupped fingers to hold him. He hovers carefully above her palms, sinking down slowly. "Arigatou," She hums, sounding thankful.

He looks up to her. The tears on her face are drying. "We need to find somewhere safe for us to hide. I've heard that new Risen," He pauses, "That's you," He bobs, "Get tired quickly. I want you to be safe."

She focuses on him intently, and he can see her brain trying to process. It will be easier when they are somewhere safe, when she can rest and they can bond and he can explain.

"Kakusu hitsuyō ga arimasu."

"Hide," He repeats, unsure of what she's saying. "Safe."

"Yes," She agrees, and he perks up. Frowning, she stumbles through the rest. "Ghost…" She bites her lip, whispering, "You lead… way?"

He spins happily in her hands. Perhaps things would right themselves with time, as her mind adjusts to being alive once more. "Yes. I'll lead the way!"

She smiles at him, then, and releases him so that he can guide her. He thinks if he had a heart, it would have leapt right out of his body.


	2. Chapter 2

During the day, she holes up in safe locations: small recesses and upper levels of structurally sound buildings, ransacked temples, forgotten convenience stores. While she sleeps, he keeps an eye out for danger, patrolling the area silently. It gives him time to process things about her that he’s been cataloging. It's something he can do while watching her uneasy slumber, keeping an eye on the cracks in the walls that could welcome intruders, something that also allows him to nudge her carefully when she begins twitching fitfully.

The first, and arguably the most important bit of what he determines about her, is the language she's been speaking around broken bits and pieces of the common tongue. There are no universally recognized archives for him to pull from, but based on location and data he's collected and exchanged with other Ghosts he's crossed in his travels, he can cross-reference enough data to figure she's speaking a pre-collapse Earth language. He downloads whatever resources he can find, scanning every console, every terminal they come across. She’s able to read the signage here. It becomes abundantly clear that she’s speaking Japanese.

The first two nights they spend scavenging, collecting wood and weaponry, finding whatever bits of edible plants and trapping small animals for food. His Guardian is clever and patient. She follows his instructions to the letter, isn’t afraid to let him take the lead.

He feels whole with her at his side. Finally.

Tonight, they’ve decided to make camp in an old apartment complex. They have not seen any enemies since her first day, three days ago. She lights a lamp in what was once a living space, using a scavenged burner they’d worked on for two hours to get working. The unit they occupy is small and relatively low to the ground, only five stories up. No one should be able to see the light of the small cooking device she lights in a room without windows.

He follows her carefully as she explores the place, looking for anything useful: a pack, bedding, utensils. She pauses when she enters what is a nearly intact washroom. He watches her regard herself using the light of his optic after wiping a streak of dust off the mirror.

“Not right,” She finally says, when he spins his small fins quietly, trying not to rush her into a reply. “Glowing,” She whispers.

“You’re Awoken,” He informs her. “That’s normal.”

“I was not-” She frowns, puzzling over her words. Her nose scrunches as she thinks. “Was not this… I think.” She traces a line of aura, simmering under her skin like water illuminated by moonlight. “Was… different? Eyes,” She narrows them at her reflection. “Skin.”

He knows, based on the slant and shape of her brilliant eyes - regardless of her heritage - something in her was once from these lands.

Perhaps Japan was her homeland before the collapse. He hasn’t seen many Awoken. Clearly they retained some traces of their human heritage when they were changed. 

But… he rechecks the logs on the scan he’d run prior to resurrecting her for the umpteenth time. There’s radiation in her bones, and they’re weighted differently from that of humans or Earthborn Awoken. She’s lighter. More compact. He has seen how she looks to the skies, feels the gentle thrum of the pull from her former people. She is his gift from the stars.

There is no doubt, despite whatever she might have been before the Collapse. The cloth scraps hidden beneath her bones confirmed it. His Guardian was an Awoken of the Reef in her first life: A member of the splinter group who had abandoned their queen in hopes of helping those left on Earth survive.

And that choice had clearly led to her demise, one way or another.

“You came from up there,” He finally says, drifting over to a broken window. Above them, the countless lights in the sky twinkle radiantly. She blinks up at them in curiosity, not for the first time. “But, I think you were human once,” He trills a gentle, synthesized note and nuzzles her cheek carefully. She likes the affection and hums.

“Alien?”

He chuckles. “No. The original Awoken were humans, changed by the Collapse.” He tips his whole self to the side, regarding her with that teal, slow blink. “Things are… I haven’t encountered very many.”

“Awoken?” She points to her chest, following him as he floats past her and back to the space in which the burner sits, cheerfully warming up the room from the cool night.

“Yes,” He agrees, “You are.” She brightens, and he is quick to explain, “But that is not your name.”

“I don’t…”

“Some remember.”

“Who?” Her lips purse into a delicate ‘o’ shape. She tilts her head, thinking.

“Other Risen. Guardians.” She blinks. “Those who were brought back, like you. To do great things for Humanity.”

“Awoken?”

“Some. Others are Human, some are Exo.”

That seems to make enough sense to her, because she continues in her previous line of thought. “I don’t have,” She says brokenly. “Name.” She takes a moment, collecting herself. She’s trying to communicate better. The words are in there, somewhere. “I don’t have,” She pauses and he nods. Every day has been an improvement. “I don’t remember it. No memory.”

He feels her great, overwhelming sadness, even when she tries to hide it away. It’s a devastating feeling of loss he’d heard about from Ghosts who had partners before him. They mourn things they do not remember. Some search aimlessly, unable to move past their first life. She will not be one of them, he can tell. She simply needs reassurance. Support. He is her compass. He must guide her through it.

Finally, he asks her, “Do you want one?”

She nods.

“Hmm. You can pick any name you wish.”

“Ghost,” She replies, softly. Bashful. “Please, pick?”

His shell expands and draws back together neatly. “I did find a decent language engine,” He supposes. “I’ll need time to think about it.” She nods, looking eager. He tips his fins cheerfully, like a smile. “But,” He says, and she furrows her brows, “I want one, too.”

“Ghost.” Delicate fingers point to him in confusion. Is that not his name, she’s wondering.

“That’s what they call me,” He confirms. “But if I don’t call you Guardian because you get one, it’s only fair that you give me one as well.”

“Ano…”

“Anata ga erabu mono wa nani demo kanpekidesu.” _Whatever you pick will be perfect,_ he thinks. “Anata o shinrai suru.”

“I trust you, too,” She answers immediately in common, with a bright smile. It makes him happy to see her smile. Even his most insignificant efforts have been acknowledged, rewarded. She settles on the warped floor, wrapped in musty blankets. Invitingly, she pats the cushion they make, crossed over her legs. He nestles in. “I want…” She sighs. “I want to pick the right name for you.” She’s better at the common tongue when she doesn’t overthink it. The words just flow. 

Even so, he believes in her. “You will.”


	3. Chapter 3

They come across a scavenger in the ruins on her sixth day. He's a burly man who makes a lot of noise and seems to enjoy shooting Fallen who happen upon him.

Something about him frightens her, frightens his Guardian. Perhaps it's the scars on his arms, or the obvious weapons at his sides, or the love of chaotic violence. "We can go around," The nameless Ghost tells her. "He won't be able to see us. He doesn't have a display like the one we share, to tell him of enemies nearby."

Even still, one scavenger usually means there are others - they come in groups, Ghost says. She keeps to the shadows, moving stealthily between the skeletal buildings that tower above her, their frames built to withstand earthquakes. Something about it bothers her, makes her expressly sad, for reasons she does not understand. 

Something in her recognizes this place, even if she's only perturbed by seeing an Awoken face rather than a human staring back at her in dingy mirrors. She is interesting, his Guardian is. He's found himself wondering about her more and more while she sleeps. Why was she returning here? Did she feel the pull in her previous life, too? It intrigued him to no end.

They're blocks away when they hear the sound of more fighting. She has no weapons, nothing in their search has been worth carrying around in the day, and fists will not defeat a gun. Not for a new Guardian, at least. She might get a punch in, but her enemy would empty a clip in her belly for it. And with her Light so new - warm and bright, but untempered - she hardly stood a chance if it came to an altercation, Ghost thought. He had yet to see her demonstrate the knowledge of fighting most Guardians seemed to intrinsically grasp.

He sticks close to her. She likes the comfort of him in sight, the way he uses himself like a beacon for her to orbit about. She does not understand that it's entirely the opposite.

They dip into the remains of an old shopping center. It's mostly open and overgrown, the glass ceiling shattered across the dirty tiles. "They're following us, aren't they?" She whispers, in accented common.

He bobs, dimming his singular eye. "They must be tracking us, to see what we find. You're stronger than them."

She gives him a comical look, sceptic.

"You'll understand eventually," He hums. "Let's try and wait them out."

It doesn't help, though. They hide beneath rubble, carefully peering over counters and cracks in the flimsy walls. One of the scavengers throws off the collapsed beam and flaking drywall she's hiding under and motions with a crook of his fingers. "Come out, come out, little Lightbearer." 

Over his shoulder, he calls something out in a strange language she doesn't understand. She rises and her Ghost phases away. Three more men come into the dilapidated store. 

The large, loud man from before steps past all of them, grabbing her by the chin. "Well she looks like a newborn, do'dn't she?" He laughs, sneering. "Where's your Ghost, love? Ain't 'e tell ya how the world works?"

"Leave him out of it," She snarls back. One of them grabs her by the hair, their other hand falling to her shoulder, wrenching it back. The leader of their group releases her chin to smack her across the face.

Ghost appears beside her then, shell spinning furiously. "Release my Guardian!" He hollers. "She's not taking anything you're after."

They group laughs. "We know tha', Li'tl Light," He jeers. "We ain't after her at all," He explains. "It's just the easiest way to do this-"

The voltage of arc energy makes Ghost scream in endless agony until his tiny eye shuts and he falls to the ground with a metallic clunk. The two men - one holding a generator or fuel cell of some sort, the other holding a bit of exposed wiring, laugh, excited.

"Got 'em, boss! Bet you-know-who will be really pleased."

"You know he will, you little shits," Comes the gleeful reply. "As for you," He tells the girl, "I can tell you ain't fixin' ta fight and that suits us just fine. Who knows, maybe you'll find a new one someday."

"Give him back," She commands as they take turns tumbling her dazed companion end over end, studying him.

"Sweetheart, I don' think you quite understand." He pulls a knife from his belt. "You're not in'na position to be makin' the calls 'round here."

"Let us go," She tries again, flailing about, trying to get free. Her voice is earnest. "Please."

He just laughs and the scavenger with his hand tangled in her hair yanks to illustrate how useless her struggling is. No matter how she claws at his gauntletted hands, he does not budge.

"If the bot wakes, crank up the juice 'n hit 'em again," The leader instructs his men, turned towards them. "They're flighty little things." He scoffs. "Now. As for you-"

There's a crack and a howl as the woman's foot all but goes through that of the man holding her. His steel-toed boot is crushed, caved in. There's a lingering warmth, the smell of wood fire in the air. The Guardian growls. "Remove hands and I release foot."

The man holding onto her is helpless but to comply, gripping his broken foot with a guttural cry when she steps forward and off of it.

"Tell your men. Release Ghost, or I not be kind," She tells him, and the cherubic visage is gone, replaced by flaring nostrils and narrowed diamond eyes.

"Without him, yer the same as me," He says, waving his knife. "Except I have a-"

It feels like she blinks fire as the two men to her right drop her Ghost to the ground and hit him with more amps of arc. She plucks the blade from the man's hands - wrapping her hand around the sharp end - and casts it aside. If the bite of the steel into her palm, the blood marring her fingers bothers her, she gives no indication.

"Get away from him," She says heatedly. "Now."

"Don't listen to her," The man before her says, drawing a gun from his belt. "She ain't gonna do no harm. She’s just a babe.” His laugh is overwhelming. “She let me draw this,” He waves it at her, yellowed teeth twisted in a smart smile. “How ‘bout you back off and I promise we won’t hurt your li’tl buddy no more.”

“You’re lying,” She tells him, accent thick. “I not believe you.”

“You’re good. Really good. I was gonna let you think it’d be that way, get out of ear shot before we plugged ‘em up with so’more juice. But yer startin’ to piss me off,” He growls. “So I’m startin’ to think I should shoot you.”

“You not shoot me.”

“No?”

She looks at the canon in his hands, eyes darting from it and back to his own.

“Oh, you think yer gonna get this one from me?”

She narrows her gaze.

“Oh, that’s a horrible idea.” He levels his gun at her tiny, knocked out companion. “I’m liable to shoot ‘im instead.”

With untraceable speed, she headbutts the scavenger, slipping around him not a second after and twisting the arm with the gun behind his back until he whines and releases his grip on it. She thumbs the safety off and points it at the other two, who jump at the insinuation. “Not want to hurt,” She tells them, voice soft. Serious. “But I will.”

“Let him go,” They nod to their bloodied leader.

Sternly, she instructs, “Away from Ghost. Take men.”

They do as they’re told, walking widely around her to get their comrades. It almost goes off without a hitch. Almost.

But then the man she’d headbutted pulls the gun from his subordinate’s holster and fires at her when she releases his twisted arm. 

Fight or flight instincts kick in. It’s as though she’s watching in slow motion as he pulls the weapon and discharges it at her. She moves in time and the bullet bursts through her shoulder, rather than her chest. Her face twists in pain and she pulls the man back by his arm, breaking it cleanly. When he moves to speak, she smacks him with his own gun. The force dislocates his jaw and sends him tumbling to the ground. She clenches her fists. They feel hot.

"Go," She tells them, dripping blood all over herself as she rushes to cradle her Ghost. "I won't tell again. No more kindness."

“You’ll pay,” They tell her, even as they tremble and shake. “People will find out about what you’ve done. Powerful people. Other Risen. You’ll pay.”

“No,” She looks up through stringy black-grey hair, eyes hard. She rises, watching them. “Do good, be good. No harm others. Ghost or Human.”

“I don’t know what kind of world you think you’ve woken up into, Risen,” The one with the injured foot tells her. “That isn’t how this is.”

She tilts her head to the side, considering silently. When she speaks, something has changed. “I think that’s the world we should be,” She answers, in a smooth, unwavering bell-chime tone. She doesn’t notice the sliver of cyan light from the flickering optic of the Ghost in her arms, but she clutches the shell close to her chest when he twitches mildly. “The world we should make it.”

She goes unanswered. They limp away to the Northwest. She heads to the South.

-/

When he wakes, the sun is setting, and they are walking through buildings, toward the narrow sea that separates the island from the mainland. She moves slowly, but she does not seem to be nearly as fearful. The scavenger’s cannon is tucked into her belt.

Fingers smooth over his dented, battered shell, soft and sure. “It is nothing,” She whispers, equally as soft. “You are unharmed?”

He flexes the bits of his shell, perching on her cupped palms, wiggling in a lopsided line, unable to control his motions well just yet. She plucks him from the air, wincing as she does. “I think I’ll need some time,” He informs her. “But I can-”

She finds a place overlooking the water to sit and watch the remainder of the Sun’s journey down below the horizon. “I think I can do it,” His partner says. She crosses her legs on a slab of concrete and closes her eyes, basking in the evening glow. She gasps as she feels the tendrils of something strange unfurl within her. Her wound slowly, sluggishly weaves itself back together. She looks down at the material of her tunic and sighs. “Better,” She tells him, relieved. He seems to enjoy the strange energy she’s exuding, drifting up under her chin carefully, and so she endeavors to make it last as long as she can.

When it’s over, he moves far easier as well. “You said something,” He tells her. “Back there. To those men.”

His Guardian hums.

“You said you wanted the world to be the kind of world where people do good and are good.”

She nods. “It isn’t, is it?”

He shakes his body in a negative. “It’s more dangerous. Scary. Dark.”

“But we can make it better, yes?”

Surprised, he comments, “Your speaking is better. It wasn’t-”

“I’m not afraid,” She supposes mildly. “I think it’s better when I am comfortable.” She watches his singular eye. “If they come back, if they come for you, I will protect us.” She puts a hand over her heart, quicksilver eyes softening. “I am your Guardian, after all,” She reminds him with the softest of smiles. 

“My Miyu,” He corrects. “You’re my Miyu. My gentle truth.”

“Mi-yu.” She repeats, looking at him in awe. “Is that-”

He spins, asking nervously, “Do you like it?”

_“Sutekidesu!”_ She gushes immediately, thrilled, her finger tapping her lips. “I-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have one for me yet,” He tells her. “I don’t need to know now.” 

She reaches for his fins, cradling him gently and bringing his top fin to her lips. He’s all but vibrating in excitement. She’d chosen his name not long after the subject had been brought up, but wasn’t sure. But now, she’s resolute. It’s the right choice. He is her spirit. A part of her, like she is a part of him. “Tamashii.”

“Me?”

“You,” She smiles. “It means-”

He interrupts, already having looked it up in that database of his. “It’s perfect. I love it. I love you,” He trills, hovering around her in an excited circle. “Miyu! My Miyu. My Guardian. We can make it better, this world. I know it. That’s what we’re here to do,” Tamashii chimes, determined.

Miyu nods, her emotions bright in those pale eyes, rising to her feet as the sun disappears and the skies are painted in the colors of twilight. “Lead the way, Tamashii.”

“Well, it’s not quite that easy,” He hums. “We’re going to need to find a ship. Or make a skiff. That’s why I wanted you looking for wood. I don’t think we’re going to get much further on the island here.”

“We’ll figure it out. I could always swim,” She says, earnestly.

He feints through the air. “Do you know how far it is to the mainland? You’d never-” He pauses at her silent laughing. “Miyu!”

She giggles helplessly. “You are gullible, Tamashii.” She dusts off her hands on her ripped robe. “We should start looking for something we can use to float across. The sky is red. We should have good weather tomorrow.”

“In a rush?”

“It’s a big world,” She tells him. “We’re going to be here a while.”

“You have no idea,” He tells her, hovering over her shoulder, right where he’s meant to be. “I searched most of it looking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read Miyu's humble beginnings.
> 
> There will be more to come with her with the latest Shadowkeep expansion once I get a better grasp on the lore so I can give you the best in-universe story possible!   
There may also be something directly following this, as I've had some ideas for a dark age bean story as well. Any feedback, what you'd like to see would be appreciated, but your reading means the world to me! <3 -Storm


End file.
